Dad would never
let on how he got
his nickname.
Even mom, who used
Sonny for all but scolds,
wasn’t telling
and you’d have
more luck convincing
some chicken Colonel
to part
with the nuclear codes
than in persuading
his old friends
to let you in
on the secret.
A shrug
and a wink
was the most they would offer.
Hey,
we had theories—
perhaps
some relic
of a wild
and lurid past—
though dad
was the kindest man
I ever knew.
Buddha—
watching a crop
of neophytes
search for enlightenment
could not have
been more pleased
than dad
as we tried to puzzle
it out.
Once, just before he passed,
dad and I took
a gentle stroll
around the neighborhood
and he pointed
to a stranger and said
there is
a whole life
we cannot imagine.
But I didn’t
make
the connection.
Just last week
a friend used
sonder on a triple word
in Scrabble.
I lost the challenge,
but finally understood.
And, now the word,
like some fond, fair memory,
will never leave me.
